Elizabeth hastened down the cobblestone road lit only by the moon, thankful she slipped into the night unnoticed. She asked Will to steal away with her, intending to meet behind the blacksmith's shop just before the clock struck nine. She wore her simplest clothes paired with a shawl around her head. Elizabeth glanced up at the clocktower, filled with worry as nine drew closer and Will did not show. She wondered if he truly did not care for her as she imagined and perhaps he would make such clear in action instead of words by leaving her with only the chill night air and darkness for company. At the sound of footsteps, Elizabeth lowered the fabric from her face and turned, her mouth set to speak Will's name until she took in the figure approaching her.
"Hello."
Elizabeth swept her gaze over the man's appearance, finding it odd—his hair fashioned in a twisted and carefree style, his clothes unkempt, and a sword at his waist. Elizabeth drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders, then took a step back. Her eyes searched helplessly for a sign of Will. She suddenly regretted sneaking out of the protection of her home and without telling a single soul.
"I swear on pain of death, I won't harm a hair on your head, love. Just hope for a chat is all," he said, seemingly deserving every bit of the title "stranger" and yet, the man held a certain quality to his voice, a warmth that drew Elizabeth in despite her better judgement. He walked towards her, near enough now that Elizabeth could properly study his face—all high cheekbones and charming eyes. "Have you a name, dearie?"
"Elizabeth," she answered, drawing her lip into her mouth after speaking, wondering why she wasn't cleverer and used a false name. "Elizabeth Turner," she finished, correcting her mistake. She then avoided the man's eyes until she squared her shoulders, feigning confidence before looking him square in the eye. "And yours?"
"Something tells me you've heard of me." His lips pulled up in a self-assured manner as he drew up his shirt sleeve, revealing the tattoo of a bird soaring over waves.
"Captain Jack Sparrow," she said, more of an exhale than an utterance of his name.
"The one and only. I reason I'd like to steal you away from this place." Jack brushed his fingertips along the fringe of the blush shawl.
Elizabeth raised the fabric closer to her chest and swallowed down wariness and something else entirely—perhaps interest—as she took another step back. When she was younger, she dreamt of running off with pirates, but on a dark and desolate street and at this hour, she remained uncertain it was the best idea.
"I reason I shouldn't trust a pirate," she replied, then paused, willing to hear his persuasion however. "And why should I join you?"
"A fine young lady out in the middle of the night must be searching for something."
Jack glanced over his shoulder at a couple milling down the street and drew in close to Elizabeth, pulling her by the waist into a shadowed area under the blacksmith building.
"What are you searching for, Turner girl?"
Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply but no words came. Jack took her hands into his own.
"A sense of purpose? An ever-evasive thrill?" Jack lifted one of Elizabeth's hands, turning her around in a slow circle. "Adventure?"
"How did you know?" Elizabeth whispered.
"Aren't we all." Jack's eyes fell to the gold chain around her neck and his hand brushed across her skin, drawing the medallion from inside her bodice. Jack thumbed over the skull emblem with a light in his eyes. "Sea's called you your entire life, hasn't it?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"Then why not heed the call?"
Just as the clock began to strike nine, Elizabeth snatched the medallion from Jack's hands, causing him to raise them in defense.
"I'm to meet someone soon."
"Clock's tolling, and I'm the only one here," Jack replied, holding up a finger with each toll, already at two. "Life waits for no one." Jack held up another finger. "Are you going to grab life by the unmentionables?" Another finger. "Sail out with me aboard a fine ship?" Another finger. "Follow your heart's desires?" Another. "Seeing all you wish to see, living a life of a dream?" Another. "A life of pure, unadulterated freedom?" Another. "Or miss out on an opportunity so rightfully yours?"
Jack held up one last finger, his pinky on his left hand the only one left unraised. He drew a finger under her chin, tipping it up.
"Women ought to lead a freer life, don't you think?"
Elizabeth drew the shawl back over her head then took Jack's offered hand. He instantly set off on a run, and she matched his quick footfalls, astonished somewhat at her own impulsiveness.
"You chose right, Turner," Jack assured, a bit breathless. "In for quite the treat."
.
Elizabeth marveled at the man before her, sitting across from Jack in the Captain's quarters. He was more playful than she reasoned a pirate should be, as if he stepped out of Elizabeth's childhood dreams.
She lowered a bottle of alcohol from her lips, holding it out to return it to Jack. Instead, he leaned towards her on the desk before him, lifting the drink to her mouth and tipping the bottle back, his hand brushing against her throat as she drained it clean.
"How about a sea shanty?" Jack asked. "Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life for me," Jack started then looked at Elizabeth expectantly. "Go on, sing it. Or are you going to make old Jack go it alone?"
"Singing?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows then rested her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees, unladylike. She relished in the freedom. "Singing is your 'ever-evasive thrill?' I'm starting to rethink keeping company with a wobbly-legged pirate."
"And which of my three legs are you most interested in?" Jack asked close to her ear before leaning back into his chair, crossing his legs on the desk next to her and palming his chin thoughtfully.
Elizabeth flushed, tilting her head, looking at his beard. "Why is it braided?"
"For certain acts of the… horizonal nature," he explained. "This way I avoid being called a 'beard splitter' as it's already, well," Jack smiled up at her, a glint of mischief in his eyes, "split."
Elizabeth found herself laughing and hiding her face, too taken by the spirits to care if the reaction was childish.
"Well, are you going to sing with me or not, Turner girl?"
A few moments later, Elizabeth found herself drunkenly singing along with Jack, and when the ship gave a sudden lurch, she fell forward into Jack's lap. She drew her hands up Jack's chest and a moment after meeting his eyes, kissed him, rushed and innocent. Elizabeth chanced a glance up, wondering if she did something horribly wrong, but her doubt melted away when Jack pulled her forward, his hands gripping at her back. She drew an arm around his neck and rested the other on the armrest of the chair, kissing him deeper, searching for a sign she was doing this right. It came when Jack's hands lowered past the small of her back, his fingers digging into the silk fabric of her dress, forcing her closer.
Elizabeth let out a shuddering exhale as she felt a hard want pressing between her legs. She pulled her lip into her mouth as she parted her legs. She imagined what he spoke of earlier, his tongue there first, teasing her open, followed by that pressing want. Elizabeth drew her hand down, reaching to feel Jack, to assure herself this was real—
Jack took Elizabeth by the wrist gently and turned his head away. He wordlessly helped Elizabeth to her feet and she looked to him, her eyebrows drawn.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"On the contrary," Jack murmured, "it's I who did something wrong." He took her by the hand. "Come on." The instruction was soft and welcoming, easy to follow.
Jack lead Elizabeth to the bed in the wall. He took off his boots and Elizabeth toed off her shoes then Jack held her close, pulling her onto his chest and resting a hand at the back of her head. Elizabeth nestled her head into the crook of Jack's neck. Her last conscious thought that night was how well she fit atop this stranger of a man just before the ship's slow rocking lulled her to sleep.
.
Elizabeth woke the next morning in the bed alone, her first impulse to hold her head which ached. She never drank alcohol save for at a few relatives' weddings and she never had so much. Elizabeth willed herself to her feet, about to venture up the stairs when Jack bounded down, the momentarily opened door letting in a flash of sunlight outside of the light streaming in through the portholes on the side of the ship.
"Jack." Elizabeth's face lit up.
He met her at the bottom of the steps and kissed her cheek. Jack held out a crisp red apple, pulling it back just when Elizabeth reached for it. She wrinkled her nose at him and watched as he tossed it, toying at the fruit with long fingers in circling motions for a moment before relenting and giving it to her, ever so teasing.
"Should we go to the deck?" Elizabeth asked then took a bite of the apple.
"The high noon sun is awfully bright. Would only worsen the headache no doubt plaguing you."
"Then what should we do instead?" she asked, not intending for the question to have a certain appeal to it, but then she remembered the feeling of heat between her legs from the night before and her face flushed.
Jack eyes colored with a particular kind of interest, but he blinked it away then sat upon his desk, near-cat-like, wrapping an arm around one leg and swinging the other back and forth. He offered his chair to Elizabeth.
"Tell me about your life, Turner girl."
Elizabeth shared much of her life with Jack through mouthfuls of apple, indulging in the improperness. However, she was sure to mask the stories, remembering to recite them as if an outsider of her own life, the maid instead of the governor's daughter. Then she asked him to share and hung onto his every word, each tale of pirating making her that bit more astonished, that bit more taken with him.
Jack showed Elizabeth his sea journals and maps and taught her nearly everything one would need to know about piracy. He made every bit of it sound interesting, even the most mundane matters, his charisma holding her interest. Yes, she was quite taken with him, Elizabeth had to admit to herself. She crossed her legs in the same manner he did the night before, resting her feet on the desk, her dress slipping past her ankles and she didn't even care.
.
That night, it was storming something terrible, the sound of thunder paired with the darkness outside making Elizabeth question her decision. She wondered if perhaps Will stopped by yesterday after all.
"I have to know," Elizabeth started, needing a distraction. She turned from the porthole and faced Jack. "The legend of the Black Pearl? Is it a real ship?"
"The Black Pearl." Jack leaned up on his elbows from where he laid on the floor. "Quite a ship. Taken over by quite the crew."
"'Quite the crew.' What sets them apart from your crew on this ship?"
"Ever had a scratch you couldn't itch, a thirst you couldn't quench, a hunger you couldn't satiate, Turner?" Jack asked, and Elizabeth felt her face grow hot at Jack's closeness. "That's the rub. The crew of the Pearl are the undead. Can't feel a bloody thing."
"Oh, Jack." Elizabeth smiled, passing him and leaning against the writing desk. "I'm afraid I'm too old for ghost stories."
"No stories, love. All true. Believe me," Jack said. "Let me tell you something because I like you, Lizzie. You're their way out."
"Me? How?"
"William Turner's blood runs through you. You can save them," Jack explained, making it sound so noble. "Just a drop."
"Just a drop?"
"Just a drop," Jack assured, but the thought still troubled Elizabeth.
"I think I want to go home now," Elizabeth told Jack in a whisper. She took a step back when he turned to face her, his eyes dark, something new and wild resting there.
"I can't let you do that," he countered, shaking his head and spinning his compass absentmindedly.
"Why not?"
"You see, because I struck an accord with the crew of the Black Pearl. You're the one thing standing between me and getting my ship back," Jack explained, stepping towards her. "And I'll be getting her back."
Elizabeth's heart raced, so near him once again without drink to dull her senses to the fact she didn't know Jack any more than any other man from the street. Thunder rolled outside the ship and she faltered back, her hands drawing up to the desk behind her. Her eyes helplessly searched for an exit as her mind spun. Elizabeth swallowed down her momentary distress, meeting Jack's eyes with an equally challenging look.
"Let me tell you something because I like you, Jack," Elizabeth said, borrowing his words. "I don't truly bear the name Turner. It's Swann. Elizabeth Swann. I'm the governor's daughter."
His mouth worked around words that didn't come and his hands formed fists at his sides. "What?"
Jack's hand swiftly gripped the emblem resting at Elizabeth's breast and he pulled her forward by the chain.
"But the medallion." The words were a growled weak attempt at self-assurance. "You have the medallion," Jack corrected, his voice lighter, lilting, as he tried to quell his climbing anger and his expression from unhinged to calm. "You're to tell me you are, in fact, not the spawn of one Bootstrap Bill Turner?"
"Afraid not." Elizabeth raised her chin defiantly. "What are you to do with me now, Jack Sparrow?"
Elizabeth's arms drew around herself as Jack swept his arm across the desk, sending sea journals and a candelabra and telescope to the floor in a clatter. Jack started to pace, the unpredictable madness returning to his eyes before he stilled, making to grab Elizabeth by the shoulders but he managed to stop himself, returning his hands to his sides.
"Do you or do you not know the child of William Turner?"
"And if I do? You don't seem of a sound mind to know him."
"Him," Jack echoed, and Elizabeth pulled her lip into her mouth, chastising herself for the slip. "The Turner boy, does he live?" Unable to stop himself this time, Jack pulled her forward when she didn't answer. "Does he live?"
"Yes, he's my dear friend," Elizabeth whispered, tears welling in her eyes as she avoided Jack's, "and I do hope he is on his way to save me." Her voice broke on the last two words and she turned her head away, hating that she let the man see her cry.
Jack's hold on her softened and he dropped his hands instantly, broken out of his one-track mind set on reobtaining the Black Pearl, reminded of the young woman's—barely a woman's—innocence, her softness, though she concealed it well. He shuffled back, retreating from his own behavior.
Elizabeth shuddered, defensively drawing her hand up to deflect Jack's but paused when he gently pushed past her hand to brush the back of his along her cheek, wiping away the tear tracks.
"My father was right," Elizabeth breathed out the statement. "No good comes from entertaining relationships with pirates."
"I wouldn't say no good," Jack said, a fleeting smile playing at his lips. "I," he paused, "admittedly let my ambition get the best of me at times. Apologies, Miss." Jack eyes fell and his hand returned to his side.
"It was him, Will, I was to meet instead of you, actually," Elizabeth said softly.
Jack sighed, drawing a hand over his face. "Long-limbed fellow with a mildly irritating permanent smolder?"
"That sounds like him, yes."
"Of course," Jack muttered. "I… may or may not have knocked him unconscious inside the blacksmith's shop before you stopped by."
Elizabeth's mouth dropped at the confession and she was about to let Jack have it when she noticed something in the porthole. Her heart raced when she recognized the dark figure as a ship, a ship with sails as black as night.
"And that? Is that the Black Pearl?"
Jack looked over his shoulder then met Elizabeth's eyes. He took her by the hand, leading her up to the deck. He rushed to the helm, working to turn the ship around.
"What's this, Captain?" a crew member shouted above the storm. "We were to trade the girl for the Pearl."
"She's not Bill's," Jack explained, and the man groaned, joined by gripes and jeers from other crew members.
"Once again, Jack makes a slip-up. You know, I don't think you're fit to be Captain—not of this ship or any."
"If you'd like to keep all your limbs intact, I advise you stop talking, boy," Jack said, his voice low, and there was a promise in the tone that made the crew member stand down. Elizabeth was reminded of Jack's ability to turn from charming to fearsome as she drew her arms in on herself from the cold and the rain.
"What are we to do then? Barbossa is something mad these days," an older crew member chimed in. "If we make off without making trade, seeming to slight him and the whole crew, they're sure to attack."
"Then they attack and we have no choice save for abandoning ship, do we?"
"Over a girl! Jack—"
"Can we not reason with them?" Elizabeth offered in the same instant.
"No reasoning with pirates, especially in matters regarding a woman," Jack answered Elizabeth before turning his attention to the crew member. "No saying what they'd do to her once they find she's got the medallion but not the proper blood."
"Let her serve a woman's purpose then!"
"Let you serve your purpose by remaining quiet or I'll cut your tongue out," he instructed, his voice as chilling as the sea breeze.
Just then, the Black Pearl issued a warning fire, the cannonball hitting the side of the vessel. Elizabeth drew in close to Jack's side, frightened from the jarring attack. She held onto him as Jack barked orders at the crew and focused on steering them through the storm and the beginnings of battle. The crew on the Pearl didn't need William Turner's child alive, just the blood and the ship the child was aboard slowed down enough to get it.
In a matter of moments, the Pearl was attacking aggressively and between the attacks, being the larger ship, and the storm, it didn't take much until they were in a proper amount of trouble. The ship began to keel over onto its starboard side and Jack looked to Elizabeth. His eyes fell to a damaged part of the deck and Elizabeth pieced together Jack's thoughts. It could make for a crude raft. He pulled the medallion from her neck, and when the vessel went down for good, destined for the bottom of the ocean, Jack took Elizabeth by the waist, holding onto her tight. Although they were submerged in water, Elizabeth squinted, noticing Jack's arm held high above his head, above the sea line. He pulled them back above water and both gasped for air, climbing onto the raft which floated, thankfully, only a short distance away. Jack returned the medallion to Elizabeth's neck then leaned back with a labored exhale, taking a moment's pause to let his mind rest. Then he covered his face and shouted, a delayed shock, and Elizabeth nearly would have laughed if she wasn't so stunned herself.
"You sacrificed your ship for me," she whispered.
"Not my ship. The Pearl's my ship." Jack leaned up, finding a floating board in the water which he used to guide the raft. "I'll get her back soon enough, this time on my own terms, but,"—Jack smiled at Elizabeth—"I never knew there were more important matters." He glanced away for a moment, focusing instead on slowly steering, the rain letting up. "So, thank you."
Elizabeth pressed a kiss to Jack's cheek and he stilled and turned to look at her, a tenderness washing over his features that never resided there until that moment.
.
Jack and Elizabeth washed upon an island he knew, and she wasn't sure how they would get out of this scrape, but Jack didn't seem too concerned, instantly starting on a fire. With the firelight playing across his face, Elizabeth was reminded of the heat from the night before.
"Jack," Elizabeth whispered, leaning forward on her hands and knees before where he sat, facing the fire. She drew a hand up to caress the side of his face. "I must thank you for saving my life."
"Don't thank me when I haven't worked out how to get us out of this one just yet."
Elizabeth turned his face hers and kissed him gently. "If we don't make it off this island, I want to die knowing the feeling of your embrace."
Jack's eyebrows rose and after a moment he turned up the corners of his mustache then drew his voice low. "That can be arranged."
Elizabeth shook her head, amused, then placed herself before Jack, kissing him and resting atop his chest when Jack leaned them back. He pushed the sleeves of her dress which already rested at her shoulders to rest at her elbows and Elizabeth sighed above him, the sea breeze cold against her chest. Jack deepened the kiss, thumbing over her nipples and she gasped into his mouth, followed by a kind of laugh.
"You feel good," she said simply, not knowing what else to say.
He just smiled at her, and pressed a kiss at her jaw as his hand lifted up her dress, his fingers playing at her inner-thigh, his rings tickling her skin. Elizabeth grasped onto Jack's arms at the feeling of his fingers dipping into her warmth but, after the initial shock, she melted.
Jack trailed kisses down the side of her neck then mouthed at a nipple as his fingers drew inside, coaxing her open, mesmerizing her with his touch more and more. She leaned back, slowly at first, on his hand, feeling his fingers fully inside her, but wanting more.
Jack reached for his belt, and she stilled him, meeting his gaze, an unspoken desire to do it herself. She fumbled at first but managed, sighing when her hand grasped him, and she felt as if she was remembering something long forgotten although she never experienced a man before.
Elizabeth stroked Jack's length for a moment then, seeing his eyes colored with desire, hoped to further please him. She slid down his frame then glanced up at him through her lashes before taking him into her mouth.
Jack's hands threaded into her hair, and she liked the gentle pressure, encouraging her to taste more of him. Elizabeth drew up slowly then down as Jack guided her, falling into the comfortable motion with ease. She moaned around him, not even realizing until Jack reacted to the sensation, his hips instantly drawing forward. Elizabeth pulled away, turning her face into her shoulder as a shy smile pulled at her lips.
Elizabeth gasped then couldn't help a surprised laugh when Jack suddenly turned them. She liked the feeling of the sand on her back and the gold medallion resting just above her heart. Her breath caught in her throat when Jack pushed her dress up past her thighs, the fabric pooling together at her middle. Jack started kissing at her neck once more, needier, desperate, and Elizabeth drew her arms around him at the feeling of his hard cock teasing over her entrance.
Jack leaned back, thumbing over the medallion at her neck before drawing her slightly forward by it.
"I've never been with a man before," she admitted in a whisper against his lips.
"It's okay, love. Neither have I."
Elizabeth laughed, and she wasn't sure she believed him, but it didn't matter because the joke made her feel instantly comfortable along with his next reassurance.
"Tell me if you want me to stop."
Jack entered her, and just as she felt when she slept atop him on that stolen vessel, Elizabeth relished in the miracle of how she could fit together with him so perfectly. Her grip on his arms tightened as he drew out slowly then thrusted back into her, eliciting a gasp.
"Never stop," she whispered against his ear. He quietly laughed.
Elizabeth arched her back then rested against the sand, pliant beneath Jack. Her hands gathered together sand and she closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of Jack's fingers digging into the skin just above her hips and the sound of a moaned curse word as her world seemed to open further and further, gaining a new understanding of something, but she wasn't sure what. Elizabeth wrapped her legs around Jack, wanting as much of his closeness as possible. She pulled him down, kissing him fervently as he rocked into her, and it was more than she could have imagined. She was half-prepared for disappointment as she heard stories. A man would lift your skirts and rut between your legs for a moment then spill and be on with his life, she heard. But Elizabeth couldn't help but think she made the right decision to follow the pirate on a whim, because this was nothing like that. What was it Jack said?
"A sense of purpose? An ever-evasive thrill? Adventure?"
She would gain all three with Jack, she was sure, although perhaps in the reverse order.
Elizabeth smiled softly at the sound of Jack's breath hitching at the back of his throat, then another moan. She wanted to hear it again. She drew her legs tighter around him and lifted her hips and took his hands in hers, drawing them to her breasts. As Elizabeth kissed Jack, she enjoyed the in-between moments as well, each shuddering exhale, each whisper of her name, hearing him break a little before her, because of her. She was sure this wouldn't be the last time she had him. It couldn't be. In that moment, Elizabeth decided, she needed this connection with Jack for the rest of her days. His hands drew down to her waist once more, and she was sure he wasn't real, couldn't be, as he worked into her harder and harder, his sighs melding with her own, then finally broke to pieces above her.
Jack wrapped Elizabeth in his arms, holding her by the fireside in a comfortable silence—Elizabeth sneaking in a kiss every now and then—before Jack broke it.
"Honestly, how in the hell are we to get off this island?"
Elizabeth laughed then threaded her fingers through Jack's hair before whispering against his lips, "All part of the adventure, isn't it?"